Legacy of Rayshrokein: The Demon King is Born
by Alchemygirl2006
Summary: Hayden is a mystery to the inhabitants of Theora. But for weeks he's been wrapped up in his own as a terrifying creature follows him everywhere. In an attempt to shake the monster, Hayden's meaningless life becomes tangled in a fight for all humanity.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1:

The night was cold and the wind was unforgiving. The sign to the village pub held on for dear life and creaked on its steel hinges above a cast iron door. The flames of lanterns inside brightened the foot of the door and reflected in the eyes of the wild street dogs waiting outside.

Inside, the men of the mining city clinked their glasses against those of their co-workers. Spirits splashed on the dirty floors and across the backs of the heads of unconscious workers lying across the wooden tables.

Silence cloaked the tight right corner of the pub where a stranger watched the inhabitants wearily. His eyes were glossy, silver moons and his face stern and ambitious. His leather finger traced the rim of a glass of warm beer, still filled to the top. The shadows hid his identity as he watched and chuckled in spite of the drunken men falling over each other and slurring their primitive speech.

His eyes continuously returned to the two intoxicated men sitting at the bar.

One was tall and bellowing over the counter, the barstool heaving under his weight. His face was thick with dark, springy hair circling it.

The man's friend was short and stalky. His hair was long and his beard fell to his belt buckle. He seem very uninterested in what his friend had to say, continuously taking drinks from an empty mug.

"I tell ye Murry. I hear he nuttin then the devil himself I hear," the larger one roared.

"And who be saying dat?" the shorter one spat over his glass.

"Why Maxim. He be just down the street. Him told me he was, I swear!"

The second man wiped the spit from his friend from his face, "I don't believe such hogwash. Ain't no truth to dat and ye know it! Blimey Donald, why ye gotta be so stupid all the time?"

His friend quivered, dashing a quick glance over his enormous shoulders. "D-d-don't be daft Murry… that wander ain't like any other."

"Aye Donald, he ain't. He be da only one of dose scum who be foolin da idiots in dis world with tales a death. He should be treated just like dem dere others – like scum. We let the others rot he can too I say damn it," he finished,slamming his mug on the counter, spewing booze everywhere.

"You really should be ashamed Murry my friend," the broom-handle shaped bartender hissed. "Haven't you heard the stories?"

"Aye, I've heard em. All dem."

The bartender slurred the many spills on his counter into a colourful new stain. He cocked his thin eyes up to look at the men, "Then you know that every city he comes to, everyone is dead by morning?"

"Ye see! Ye see! He ain't nuttin but a devil Murry!"

"Aye shut up Don! Ain't no fiction of dat sort gonna shake me up!"

As soon as the final word left Murry's mouth, he caught a glimpse of the paled face of the bartender. The bartender was focused on something behind Murry, his bottom lip quivering.

"M-Murray… he's… he's behind you! It's the wanderer!"

"AYE!"

Murray leapt straight into the air. His booze splashed on the counter and across his lap. He came down and landed hard on the wood flooring. His meaty hands grabbed the bar stool and he swung it violently in front of himself with his eyes closed.

As the drunken chatter fell quiet, Murray opened his eyes. No one was there.

The pub rumbled with laughter, but none laughed as hard as the bartender and Don.

"Shut up ye! Ye all listen to me here! Ain't now silver haired punk with nuttin but a bad rap gonna scare me! I'd take him on! He be just another brat like da others! Scum I tell ye! Scum! Be gone with him, be gone with em all!"

The man in the corner froze his finger. His eyes shone brilliantly as he observed the ferocious Murray. His other hand began stroking the spiraling handle of his blade lying against the table.

Murray sat where his seat should have been, meeting the floor once again. "Blimey!" he yelled. The crowd laughed again, falling off their own chairs. Murray mumbled and reached for the chair beside him. He sat upon it and hunched over the counter.

"Another beer Dale…"

The stranger rose from his table and swung his sword across his back.

"Eh!" Donald exclaimed. "Ain't nuttin Murray. Is normal to be scared of 'im."

"I say I ain't scared and I ain't" Murray pouted.

"Strong words," a voice said accompanied by an unenthusiastic clap. "Didn't understand a word you just said but I'm sure it meant something to the other brainless folk here."

Donald went cold, the voice echoing from behind him. He turned around carefully, the ringing of the clapping lingering in his skull.

The man had a youthful stature and a round face. His face was yet distinguished and all innocence of youth was absent. His silver hair shone in the dull light of the pub. It lay level with his eyes and tangled wildly in the back to his chin. His eyes caught the flare of the lanterns glowing so dimly. The stare was adventurous and dangerous and chilled the two men at the counter. His hands were sealed in his pockets. He was covered from head to toe in poorly sewn clothing. He wore heavy leather gauntlets and thick boots. He was cloaked in a potato-sack material cape the hung lifelessly behind him and the collar covered his mouth. The sword on his back was magnificent – sleek, elegant with a blade larger then any sword the men had ever seen.

"Evenin' ladies."

"Can we help u sir?" Dale spat, his hands on his hips.

"Nah," he said, flipping his hair back with a lazy flick of his chin. "Just wanted to say, 'hi'."

Seeing the frozen, dead look on Murray's face, the man smiled and leaned towards him.

"Hi…" he whispered.

Murray howled and jumped backwards, kicking over and stepping on his new stool. Splinters flew in every direction.

A fist flew at the man's outstretched face. He leaned back instinctively and took a stride backwards – his hands still inside his pockets. He watched Donald's face turn red and smiled teasingly.

"Ye… ye monster!" he said trembling, his hands still in fists. "Murray be right! Ye're just a pup who needs trainin'! Someone outta knock ye around a bit like me dad did me. Turn ye into a man like me!"

"Hey! You boys can take that outside, do you hear me?" Dale shrieked.

"Well, as much as I want to be a drunken bastard when I grow up, I'm gonna have to pass. You might wanna let your father know too that he might wanna lay of the head shots next time so his next kid has some brain left to live with."

Donald grunted and bellowed a loud sound – lashing another fist at the boy.

At the last moment, the boy swung around Donald's fist - dragging his foot across the floor, underneath Donald, as he moved. The boot made contact with Donald's shin. Donald flew head first into the table across from him and it shattered upon impact. The men who had been at the table groaned beneath Donald's large form.

Dale dove behind the counter.

"The bigger they are…" The man chuckled.

"Ye'll pay for that one boy!" Murray roared, sprinting towards him.

"I doubt it."

The boy kicked off the ground, jumping over Murray's head. Murray looked up towards the boy. He was met, almost in slow motion, with the bottom of a boot. The boy stepped down Murray's back, and gave a push with his foot on the final step. Maury launched forward waving his hands in an attempt to gain balance.

Donald climbed to his feet rubbing his head. His friend came crashing into him. Both fell into the wreckage, crushing the innocent men at the table again. A combination of pain and alcohol claimed consciousness of the two men.

"I'm taking one of the rooms upstairs, don't bother me, got it?"

Dale whimpered and nodded.

"It's nice we understand each other," he said flashing a fake grin.

His hands still in his pockets, the man who will come to be known as Hayden, strolled up the stairs to his room.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Hayden felt at home lost in the shadows of the sky-reaching trees shrouding the balcony.

The moons of Theora hung below the ceiling of dark clouds. The smaller of the two hovered gently over its brother. The combined moonlight played with the shadows of the houses in the village: watching a family enter their home together and a woman being mugged.

The night was crisp and Hayden's bones rattled beneath his skin. Hayden's cape ignored the playful breeze and it lied lifeless at his side. His wispy bang across his face annoyed him. Hayden scanned the sleeping landscape – he envied it.

The young man returned to his room beyond the open double doors. He drew his sword watched the blade shine in tainted moonlight. He dropped it against the dresser in his room. He grabbed a green woven blanket off a rocking chair and covered the mirror of the dresser. He sat on the edge of the two-person bed and began rubbing his temples with the thumb and adjacent finger of his right hand. The leather scratched his eyes, they started stinging. He peeled his glove from his hand and tried soothing the irritation.

Suddenly he stopped, as if shocked by lightning. He looked towards the wooden dresser across from him. A thick cotton blanket had been thrown over the mirror and the desk itself was dusty and stained. But his eyes were interested in something else. His stare drifted to his unsheathed sword, catching delicate moonlight – and Hayden's reflection.

Hayden watched the man staring back from the blade. His shoulders slouched and black circles encased his dulling eyes. But what disgusted Hayden most about him was his hand.

Hayden examined his own bare hand. Scars wrapped themselves around his hand. The skin was rough and tainted by one large scar lying across the back of the hand.

Hayden cringed with emotional pain. He retrieved his glove quickly and stuffed his hand inside violently. He swung out with his other hand, sending the blade clanging to the floor. Hayden jumped to his feet with a wave of his cape and began pacing by the window. He suppressed the face of a small, silver eyed boy who fought against his mind. Hayden began running his leather fingers through his hair. Each step was firm and hateful. Slowly, he came to a stop by the window.

"Argh!" – He attacked the wall with his fist, his cape flailing behind him.

He stood stiff and emotionless, looking at his aching hand.

"Damn…" was all he could muster.

Suddenly, there was a knock at his door, followed by a scraping noise just outside.

"Drunken bastards," Hayden grumbled. He envisioned the two brutes from earlier standing outside waiting to ambush the legendary silver haired wanderer. "Wasn't getting their asses kicked once tonight enough?"

Hayden walked to the door casually and opened it. There was no one there.

"What the…" – Hayden was interrupted by the sickening sound of metal scraping against metal, followed by the threatening noise of daggers being dropped on the wooden floors. The two echoes came one after another in a footstep like pattern. It was coming from behind the right corner at the end of the hallway.

Hayden's face went sickly. Between the metal cries, he heard his heart beat violently. "No… not again."

Slowly, Hayden eased himself to the end of the hall, holding the wall close. His mouth turned to ash and his hands were unsteady. His heart kicked at his chest – trying to escape.

His boot sole was squeaking. Suddenly his foot slipped from under him. He fell to his right knee, stopping his fall with his left fist. He wiped the sweat from his bow, replacing his left hand against the wall to re-steady himself.

Then it was like a knife had stabbed his heart. His angry heart leapt into his throat – smothering him. There was blood on the floor, seeping through the lines in the wood. The trail of human life led behind the corner.

His lungs choked and delayed his breathing. His skin erupted with white fear bumps. His eyes became full moons – hollow like an eclipse.

He gave a hesitated glance to the end of the hall. Hayden turned quickly, slipping in the blood and ramming into the opposite wall. Shaken, he ran in the direction opposite to the bloody path.

Suddenly something caught the tail of his cape. Hayden was strangled by the collar and reached to relieve it. Hayden was then swiftly lifted from the ground. A moment of shock passed quickly. Hayden began struggling – pulling at the collar of his cape desperately.

As Hayden shook his body in a feeble attempt to free him self, a thick liquid fell and oozed down his shoulder. It was warm, clear and smelt sour like death. Hayden then knew what had him. Hayden arched his head up slowly, dreading what he knew he'd find.

Above him, clinging to the ceiling, was the most terrifying beast Hayden had and any mortal would ever encounter. Its eyes were jaundice and so soulless that they were hypnotic. Its body was made of shining, onyx black plates. It was muscular and powerful looking, with an anorexic waist and a long, curved neck. The creature's horns curled at the side of his head. Its jaw was long and definitely powerful, and the thick, decayed tongue even longer – lashing side to side. Rows of murderous teeth lined its destructive mouth and were stained with blood. Each of its toes were shaped like a farmer's sickle and made of a black, metallic metal. His tail was what Hayden had learned to like least. The tail was thick and powerful, slowly thinning into a swift and deadly whip.

Hayden watched the creature sway its tongue above him with absolute horror. Hayden was paralyzed and the creature stood motionless watching Hayden closely. The creature's eyes widened. It flashed it's teeth dementedly, as if to smile. Suddenly it screeched an ear piecing scream that echoed in Hayden's skull. The eyes lit with fury and primal instinct. His open paw came slicing towards Hayden's throat.

"Ahhhhhhhhh!" – Hayden swung his legs and twisted sideways. The talons ripped through the cloak and scathed Hayden's neck. Hayden fell hard on the floor.

There was no time for pain. Hayden lifted his aching corpse from the floorboards. Adrenaline surged through his body – numbing the pain of his wound. Clenching his gasping throat, he experimented with his paralyzed feet, searching for friction on the blood pools. Semi-sturdy, Hayden took off in a mad sprint for the other end of the hall.

Hayden scurried down the dimly lit hall, the monster's cry echoing in the background as it tore the cape to shreds.

Suddenly, Hayden vaulted forward – crashing on the floor with a deafening thud.

He looked back to see what had tripped him.

Sickness launched into his mouth. He turned and choked in an attempt not to vomit.

The pieces of the two men from earlier littered the ground, scattered about on the dark floors.

"No… Why is this happening?"

The creature slithered around the corner, its claws singing: click, click, click. Its head was down, eyes locked on Hayden. He studied the frightened boy, his tongue twitching.

"What… What the hell do you want from me?" Hayden screamed at the beast.

The monster responded with a ferocious cry, leaning its head back. The creature lunged at Hayden.

Hayden rolled aside, free from the path of destruction. He hissed with pain, holding his wound.

The monster landed next to him and continued in a saunter. Hayden dashed in the opposite direction of the monster.

There was a thud against Hayden's chest. The monster's tail pounded Hayden's ribcage with the force of an executioner's axe. Air was forced from Hayden's crushed lungs. He hung in the air, finally fell and bounced off the floor. The ceiling turned to a hallucination of waves and colour from the pain in his head. He shook the nonsense from his brain and sat up.

The whip-like end of the tail took Hayden's neck like a noose. Hayden's head hit the ceiling as he was heaved skyward. He grunted as the blood rushed to his head. His teeth chattered together with the blow.

Close to un-consciousness, Hayden watched the hissing creature. The monster bared its teeth with delight.

Then inspiration struck, Hayden grabbed the lantern on the wall. He threw the object at the monster. There was a flash of flames and the mildew on the old walls caught fire quickly. The other lanterns on the wall exploded. The fires joined in a wonderful inferno around the beast. The monster screeched a horrible sound.

The tail released Hayden. He fell to a roll. Soon on his feet, he took off away from the growing flames.

Suddenly from the fire, the creature pounced - claws catching a few stray silver hairs.

Hayden ran violently towards his room. The clicking of the monster's talons quickened as it chased Hayden.

The door was still open. Hayden fell into his room, the monster screeching to a halt where Hayden had just been. It screamed at Hayden. It swallowed then spat a large orb of black filth at Hayden. He moved away. The black concoction burned away the balcony doors.

Hayden grabbed his blade lying on the floor. He landed on one knee, pointing his shinning, trademark blade at the creature.

"Now… where were we, huh?"

The monster bowed its head and hissed.

Hayden returned to his feet, staring into the monster with his powerful eyes.

"You got to get a hobby besides chasing me, you hear me?"

The monster jumped at Hayden again. Hayden ducked - the monster missed him, falling against the wall – it heaving beneath the creature's weight. It roared in frustration and came at him with equal aggression. The monster passed his jaws by Hayden's arm. He tossed the blade to the attacked hand. Hayden sliced through the right side of the monster as it passed by.

The monster labored as it landed. Black ooze – different from the monster's spit - fell from the wound and gathered on the floors. It bubbled and ate the first layers of the wood.

"Huh? What the hell is that?"

The beast looked at Hayden, an anger and resentment swelling in its eyes.

"What's wrong? Don't let me discourage you from ripping my guts out."

The beast snarled. The fire made it's appearance suddenly, growing behind the creature.

"Uh oh. So much for the inn," Hayden thought as he watched the flames rip through the walls of his room.

The beast attacked in the moment of distraction. It heaved Hayden's torso with its powerful head. Hayden was thrown backwards through the gap created by the monster's attack. Hayden lost the grip on his blade as he fell from the third floor of the inn to the cold ground outside.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Hayden lied there studying the dancing blades of grass beside him. Blood soaked his shirt from the wound on his neck.

Slowly, dark circles engulfed the weak grass and his eyes began to close. Hayden fought to save his consciousness against the raw sensations of pain growing from his open wounds. His body was gradually surrendering to the damage done.

Landing a few feet away, the creature landed with a snarl. The monster prowled the grass as it moved towards Hayden – the inn flickering in the background.

There was a shooting pain against his right shoulder as he tried to look at the monster. He turned to examine himself. His blade had pierced him in the fall.

The monster's shadow thickened on Hayden's chest and face as it drew steadily closer. Its tongue hung to the side and saliva dripped from his open jaw.

The creature limped due to the wound Hayden had inflicted on it earlier – the same strange ooze bleeding from it.

Hayden could feel its breath smothering him. His weak state paralyzed him and he was unable to react. The creature placed Hayden's head between its massive jaws.

Hayden lay lifeless, his eyes clouding over. His shoulder slid further over his blade – his flesh ripping against the sword.

Suddenly, without any realization by Hayden, a white mist fell in. The beast snarled when the clouds covered its feet. It decided to let go of Hayden and focus on the strange, curling mist.

The echo of a unique cry could be heard. A bellowing sound that was miserably sad and empty. It sounded as if the creator was searching for something lost.

The beast whimpered and hid the sharp end of its tail under its belly. The mist thickened. The creature left with a giant leap, leaving Hayden to die alone.

The clouds gathered around Hayden. Against the white shadows, was a single flame rocking back and forth. Hayden watched numbly from a distance as his mind left him stranded. The mesmerizing pattern took over Hayden's remaining senses. The flame grew as it approached him.

Now Hayden lay in complete seclusion created by the mist. Had he died? Is that why the creature had left? He watched the only sign of life besides him hoping it would not disappear. Had he died? Is that why the creature had left? There was no sound of footsteps but still the form undoubtedly came closer.

Suddenly the silhouette came into focus. It was tall and slouched. It continued moaning and rocked its head slowly side to side as it did so.

It was the most depressing creature Hayden had ever encountered. It stopped at Hayden's side and cried once more before falling silent. Hayden, teetering on the borderline of consciousness, couldn't distinguish the figure at all. It brought the feeble flame closer to Hayden by slowly stretching its long, thin arm.

The flame suddenly lit brightly and overpowered the mist around Hayden and blocked out the figure behind it. Hayden clenched his eyes shut by the will of the flame.

Hayden felt a cold hand reach around his throat. The fingers were abnormally long and stretched completely around his neck, and into his wound.

When Hayden opened his eyes he could not believe what he saw. The creature was horrific. His mouth was as if it had once been sewn shut but it had been pried open. His eyes drooped and were dark like charcoal. Its skin was white and pasty.

Suddenly, a flash of memories blinded him. He saw a sad young boy standing against iron bars. That image transformed into the boy waiting in a tall building against a frosted window. The next was the boy being beaten severely by an old man with a leather strap. Then a new man stood over him and Hayden smelt the strong smell of oil. Hayden suppressed the haunting visions as hard as his weakened mind could let him. Hayden then saw things he did not recognize. There was a woman and a baby – she was gorgeous and held the child close to her body. Suddenly, the baby was crying in its bed. The face of a man dressed in black flashed in his mind. A woman lay on the floor covered in blood. He saw the baby dropping from the sky – and suddenly… darkness.


End file.
